


The End of War

by 24inches



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Accidental domestic violence, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Dorothy Walker's A+ Parenting, F/F, Flashbacks, Fluff, Food Issues, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Jessica Needs a Hug, Kissing, Missing Scene, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Pining, Podfic Welcome, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, bi-jessica, killgrave is a bad man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:16:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7457524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/24inches/pseuds/24inches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AKA: A, B, C, PTSD. Just because Killgrave is dead does not mean that Jessica is done fighting him, luckily she doesn't have to do it alone. Jessica/Trish Season one aftermath and missing scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The people of the state of New York vs. Jessica Jones

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic ever. I told myself I would never write a fanfic and now here I am. I just love Jessica Jones so much and I ship Jessica/Trish so hard and there is not nearly enough fics of them for my taste so the only solution was to write one, enjoy!  
> This was organically just going to be a smut fic called "Jessica Bones" but then angst happened (oops).

Jessica hadn’t thought of this.

She had spent hours planning, making sure she considered every variable, every possible outcome. Jessica had made a life for herself mostly just winging it but when it came to that night at the docks, when she would finally wipe the stain that was Killgrave off the face of the planet for good she had made sure to have backup plans for her backup plans.

She had not thought of this though. Even with all her careful planning, and Trish’s color coding, it had not occurred to her that she might be arrested for killing the guy. That had probably been an oversight on her part.

She could probably have fought them back, gotten away. She had already done it once. That would have meant a life on the run and she was just so _tired_. Her ribs still hurt and her head ached, her body shook with spent adrenaline and she felt like she might collapse from a bone deep weariness that refused to be ignored any longer. Plus, she was pretty sure the cut on her leg was bleeding again.

Killgrave was dead, Trish was safe, it was over, she didn’t want to run anymore.

  The whole situation struck her more as funny than anything else. She wanted to laugh but she was afraid of giving in to the insane hysteria that had been pounding in her head for over a year now. It was just that it was all so funny, she was being arrested and put on trial for killing the only person in the world that was a bigger asshole than she was. She deserved to be arrested and put on trial for a lot of things, this was not one of them.

Jessica figured that their was a high possibility that she might go to jail for this but at least then she could rest.

Hogarth wanted her to wear a dress to the trial. Jessica had planned to just wear a T-shirt and the jeans she wore everyday. Hogarth wanted her to wear a dress. Make her “more feminine, more approachable, more sympathetic to the jury.” Jessica didn’t do well with people telling her what she should or shouldn't wear, Hogarth should have realized that by now. In any case the attorney now had a fist shaped hole in her office to remind her.

She didn’t wear a dress. She settled on a pair of dress slacks and a white button up. It’s not that Hogarth was necessarily wrong about the dress angle, It was probably a good idea to not look like a total slob. It was just that Jessica had bad experiences with people telling her what to do, plus she didn’t actually own a dress.

The trial itself was tedium incarnate. It took forever just to get a court date. When she finally did it only lead to more waiting. It didn't feel like it would ever be over. Lucky Trish had paid her bail so that she could sit at home jumping at shadows in her own personal prison instead of a government run one.

The eventale court date found Jessica just as tired and irritated as always, having not slept well the night before or the night before that, or the night before that. Her apartment didn’t feel like it was hers anymore and her bed felt empty and cold without Luke there. Jessica hoped he was ok, hoped that he would find peace, he deserved it. She hoped that he would be able to find closure in Killgrave’s death the way she seemed to be unable to.

She thought that when Killgrave was finally gone for good that she would be able to put that past behind her. That she could find sleep without destroying her liver. Sadly it seemed there truly was no rest for the wicked.

Her nightmares stayed, made all the more viscous by the new material she had gathered. It was more vivid than a dream had any right to be: Killgrave, standing up from where he should be dead on the ground. His eyes dead and his neck at an impossible angle holding Trish against his dead flesh, compelling her against her will, forcing Jessica to watch.

Other times he would tell Jessica to stab herself for every person she had gotten killed, every life she had ruined. Mom, Dad, Philip, Reva, Clemons, Hope, Luke, Simpson, Malcolm, Rubin, Trish… She would stab herself till she riddled with gaping, bloody holes, the blood pouring from her body black and hot and thick with guilt. She would wake with a scream, grabbing the nearest bottle then running to the bathroom to do her best Lady Macbeth impression. 

As much as Jessica hated being there she knew she deserved it. She was practically vibrating with the need to jump up and declare herself guilty, make them lock her up and throw away the key. She refrained, she sat on her hands with her lips press together. This was about Killgrave and Jessica was not about to go to prison for doing the world a favor, for fulfilling Hope and Albert’s dying wish.    

It all seemed so stupid now but she had honestly thought that getting rid of Killgrave would magically solve all her problems. It should have, she had super strength, she could fly, kinda, the only person who had ever had any kind of control over her was gone. She had no right to be afraid of anything. But that was post traumatic stress disorder for you, the gift that just kept on giving. It didn’t seem to care that she had super powers.

Jessica was drawn from her thoughts by someone clearing their throat. She looked up to find Hogarth staring at her impatiently. Not in a way that anyone else would be able to tell. Jeri Hogarth was the ultimate professional, she never let anyone in and she gave nothing away. At least not for free anyway. But Jessica would know that look from a mile away: the slight furrow of her brow and the tightness around her mouth. Oh yeah, that was Hogarth’s _why has God put Jessica Jones on this earth to test me? face_. Jessica is very familiar with that face.

It occurs to Jessica that Hogarth is not the only one staring at her in that moment. In fact the whole court room is staring at her. Oh shit. She is on the witness stand where she is on trial for a life sentence. Oh Fuck! How could she have spaced out on the witness stand where she is on trial for her life?

It’s obvious that Hogarth is waiting for an answer to a question Jessica has missed. What in the hell had she asked?! Jessica tries to think back but came up blank. She thinks about just nodding her head which is what she usually does when she is caught not listening but there are too many ways that that could go terribly, terribly wrong.

She could play the victim and just burst into sobs. Hogarth had suggested that she cry at some point while on the witness stand. But that could also go wrong if the question was something mundane. If she started crying because someone had asked her what she did for a living she would just make herself look unstable and that would only hurt her case. Not only that but if she let herself cry now she wasn’t sure if she would be able to ever stop.

In the end she goes with the safest option. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat the question?” Jessica asks through gritted teeth. Jessica and Hogarth relationship had been stained at the best time but after everything that had happened Jessica could hardly stand to be in the same room as the attorney.

Hogarth narrows her eyes in a way that Jessica is also very familiar with. “Would you say that you knew the deceased intimately?” Hogarth asked, looking like it pained her to have to repeat herself. Jessica is barely able to stifle her immediate response to that question which would have been to scream at Hogarth until she needed hearing aids.

She very carefully does not do that, but is unable to keep the dripping sarcasm from her more articulate response. “I was forced to spend my every waking hour with him for 6 agonizing months. Yes, I would say that I knew him better than most people.”

There’s a snort from the court audience, an aborted laugh from the far left side of the courtroom. Jessica looks over to see Trish, of course it’s Trish, holding her hands over her mouth and turning red in her effort to keep the giggles at bay. Malcolm is with her of course, he insisted on being there “in case things got ugly.” Jessica is not 100% sure on what he meant by that, she loses her case maybe? She is not sure what he planned to do if that were the case, but knowing Malcolm it would be something stupid. Trish had insisted on being there because, well, she was Trish. That is just what she did, she was there for Jessica in a way that no one ever had been since her family died.  

Trish was at the far end of the courtroom on the opposite side of the defence table where Jessica and Hogarth had been stationed. Jessica had been befuddled at first as to why Trish had elected to sit so far away. It didn’t occur to her until about 20 minutes into this shit show of a trial that Trish had found the only seat in the house where Jessica could look at her and still look like she was paying attention to what was happening at the bench. Jessica was convinced that the nobel peace prize had been invented for people like Trish.

Jessica wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like if their roles had been reversed. What if Trish had been the one with the superpowers and the higher calling? Jessica knew that Trish thought about it too. Thought that Jessica was wasting her potential. Trish had no idea how wrong she was. Jessica wasn't a hero, she wasn’t on a mission from God to help the helpless. Jessica was doing to world a favor by sitting at home, drinking her whiskey and not using her powers.

Jessica may have super strength but she was not a superhero, that was Trish’s job. Trish who didn’t have to second guess every move that she made, Trish who was always sure of what was right. Trish who was just good in a way that Jessica never had been, even before Killgrave. Jessica winked at her, causing Trish  to stifle a fresh peal of laughter.  

The rest of the trail was relatively uneventful. Jessica made more of an effort to pay attention, at least while she was still on the witness stand. She did not end up crying like Hogarth had asked her to. A few of the other witnesses Hogarth called did though. One young woman in particular who had killed someone with her with her bare hands in the fight at the docks cried so hard she could not finish her testimony and had to be excused from the courtroom. Jessica was pretty sure Hogarth had not asked her to do that.

After what seemed an inordinate amount of  time the jury came back with with their verdict. Not Guilty. Hogarth adds another case to her spotless record and Jessica can go home to her shitty apartment. She doubted very much that she would find any peace there. She hadn't found it the night he died, the first, or the second time. All she had found was yet another dead body at her feet.

If there was one thing Jessica had learned from this it was there was a big difference between being not guilty, and being innocent.   

 


	2. Take the Long Way Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA: Plan M

Jessica didn’t go home.

Her apartment had not felt like home since Kilgrave had violated it and left only death behind. She knew it was only in her imagination. Trish and Malcolm did a suspiciously good job clearing out Ruben’s body but to Jessica it still stank of death.

She finally got the reprieve from Robin and Ruben's screaming matches that would take place at all hour and now the silence is slowly driving her insane.

She can't go home so she wonders  the streets of Hell's Kitchen alone at night, confident in the knowledge that she is the most dangerous thing that she is likely to come across. 

She thinks about getting something to drink. She had promised Hogarth that she would be sober for the trial and now that it was over it was abundantly obvious that there was too much blood in her alcohol system. This was the longest she had been sober in God knows how long.

It hurt. Everyone of her unclouded senses hit her like physical blows, too sharp and bright and she needed a drink now.

Only problem was she was broke. She had been busy. Hunting down mass murderers didn’t exactly pay the bills, at least not in Jessica’s case.

If she went to a bar she could probably get someone to buy her a drink. She knew she was attractive, even charming if she tried. It was a plan and it would have worked if not for the fact that the very idea turned her stomach.  

So she just kept walking, trying to think of a plan that would get her booze without having any money. She was on plan "M" which involved getting a hold of some potatoes and making her own vodka when she realized where she was.    

Trish. She was at Trish’s apartment, knocking at her door before she had even made a conscious decision to go there. God, how long had she been walking? Trish lived at least 16 miles away from the courthouse.

That would explain why her feet hurt so much.

She shouldn’t be here. This was pathetic on a whole new level, even for Jessica who had just been thinking about making her own vodka.

 Jessica was just about to turn around, be miserable in private, maybe get ahold of those potatoes when the door opened. Trish was standing in the doorway. Face bear and flushed, hair sleep rumpled, all soft lines and blurry sleep crusted eyes. This was not the carefully cultivated and manicured Trish Walker the media got to see.

Jessica was reminded of when her and Trish lived together, back when Jessica didn’t feel like her embrace was smearing blood on whoever she touched. Before Jessica's met the devil and her life went to hell, dragging Trish along with her.

Jessica’s heart just melted and all thoughts of escape vanished from her mind. Jessica hadn’t realized how tense she was until she saw Trish and relaxed on impulse.

“Jessica?” Trish asked. She must have looked through her monitor before she had opened the door but she still managed to sound surprised.

“...Ah ..yeah, hi.” Jessica said lamely. She had no idea what else she could possibly say in this situation.

It was a strange cocktail of emotions. On the one hand she was so relieved to see Trish she felt a little high. On the other hand she was kind of hoping the floor would swallow her.

“Jessica, what are you doing here? What’s wrong?” Trish sounded frantic and angry. Jessica came down from her high so fast it hurt.

“What? I can’t come over and see my friend without there being something wrong?” Jessica snaps, feeling waspish, metallic and poisonous. she always feels like that these days, always lashing out at the people that were trying to help her. So she tries to summon up a smile to soften the harshness of her words. Because Trish doesn’t deserve to be snapped at, especially not by Jessica.

Trish is trying so hard for her, every damn day, even with Jessica snapping and tense, leaking radioactive shit everywhere. So Jessica can try too. Pull out a smile, and it’s just as hard every time, making sure it’s not fake, finding something genuine. After Killgrave Jessica has made it a point to only smile when _she_ wants to.

Trish is the exception.

It’s worth it for the way Trish’s shoulders settle a little, her eyes brightening. Jessica should not be here. She has messed up Trish’s life enough already. Everyone that comes in contact with Jessica ends up dead or worse. People like Trish shouldn't be around people like Jessica. It was dangerous and wrong. But god damnit she is here now which means she should probably think of an excuse as to why that is before Trish’s sleep idle brian jumps to anymore conclusions.

“Sorry, I was.. Just ah… In the neighborhood and I thought: hey! I just got off a murder charge … so I was thinking maybe we could go somewhere to celebrate. Not Luke’s obviously, but there are other places…” Smooth Jones real smooth.

Trish stared at Jessica for what felt like forever. She then did a truly remarkable impression of Hogarth’s _Why has God put Jessica Jones on this Earth to Test me? Face_ before sighing and informing Jessica that it was infact 3am and that she doubted very much that any place would be open, and was she sure everything was ok?

Jessica checked her phone. It was 3:26am. Shit, Jessica was knocking on people’s doors at 3:26am. This was beyond pathetic, this was a _new_ , new low.

Jessica needed to leave, now. She stuttered out an apology and started to leave, making her way back to the bank of elevators when Trish stopped her with a soft but firm hand on her shoulder.

They stood there for an endless moment, Jessica wanting nothing more then to disappear forever. Trish looking stoic, even in her PJs, her face unreadable. She didn’t move her hand from Jessica’s shoulder.

It was Trish who eventually broke the silent standoff, gesturing to her door with one arm, the other still firmly on Jessica’s shoulder.

“What?” Jessica asked with honest confusion. She likes to think of herself as someone who knows Trish better than anyone else but Jessica has zero idea what she is trying to communicate in this moment.

Trish rolls her eyes like Jessica is missing something obvious, which is not fair because Jessica is a PI and very good at not missing things.

“I’m trying to tell you to come into my home.” Trish says like they are old friends engaging in a social call. Not like it’s 3:26am and Jessica is a ticking time bomb.

“Oh” Jessica says, at a loss. She follows Trish inside even though she knows it’s a bad idea, because Trish makes saying yes easy and Jessica is tired of the hard choices.    


	3. Friendly Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA: the 5000 dollar couch.  
> In the first episode of Jessica Jones when we are first introduced to Trish It is revealed that Trish and Jessica used to live together. Not only that but Jessica went back to living with Trish after Killgrave died the first time but she moved out after 6 moths. Why? The show never addressees this. This is my idea of what could have happened. 
> 
> Warning: this is the chapter where a lot of the scary tags start coming in.

A few hours and about twice as many drinks later Jessica and Trish are sitting on Trish’s 5000 dollar couch gripping their sides, tears streaming down their faces as they watched old episodes of “Patsy.”

It use to be that “Patsy” and the subsequent memories it brought of Trish’s mother was too sore a subject to even talk about. But time has healed (almost) all wounds. By the time Trish was in her twenties she was able to look back at the show that had crippled her childhood and laugh at the dumb jokes and campy plots.

Tonight there were watching the season 3 finale “Patsy, Come Home.”

That night at the docks was not the first time Jessica and Trish had switched places. The day that had been scheduled to shoot “Patsy Come Home” Trish had gotten food poisoning so bad that she couldn’t even stand without barfing.

But the show must go on. Patsy was a weekly show on a very tight schedule. Even though their star was down they still had to march on some how.

The solution: a body double. The camera crew would not be able to do any straight on shots but with some artistic lighting and over the shoulder shots they would be able to get half the shots they needed. Which would only put the show moderately behind schedule. They just needed to find a find a caucasian girl that was about Trish’s age, height, weight, and body type.

That is how Jessica Jones became the temporary star of Disney's hit series “Patsy.”

“Oh my God. Did you… See that?” Trish wheezed through her laughter.

“See what?” Jessica asked laughing despite how much it hurt her still healing ribs. Trish picked up the remote and rewound the episode to an over the shoulder shot of Jessica as Pasty.

“That, that!” Trish screeched, pausing the episode and pointing at the screen. In the shoot Patsy was finally going to kiss that boy she had had a crush on “ for like ever.” Pasty’s stupid red wig was in a ponytail and… and there was a lock of black hair coming out of the back of the wig.

“Oh. My. God.” Jesica did not make a habit out of saying oh my god. She was much more of a “God fucking damnit” kind of person but, oh my God. Trish threw her head back and made a sound closer to a scream then a laugh.

“How did that happen?” Jessica was too in shock to laugh. This was something that had aired on television, millions of people had watched this. Not that _she_ cared but it seemed like _someone_ should have.

This was not even the first time they had had to pause the episode to engage in fits of laughter over the poor production quality and bad acting. Overall it had taken them 2 hours to get half way through one 30 minute episode and it had transitioned from very late at night to really early in the morning while they slipped into each others company.

It was too good, too familiar, Jessica was falling into old patterns and therein lied disaster. Nights like this, nights full of safety, warmth, laughter and familiar touches, they weren’t for her. Not anymore. Jessica wished, not for the first time, that she would have thought to savor those moments. Wished she could have known that those had been the good old days before they were gone.

There’s no more good times, not for Jessica, just violence and blood and Trish’s battered face, Christ, she’d hit Trish. Low as you could go. Anybody that hit Trish deserved a house that was cold and bare and without reason, and a broken brain.

It had been an accident. An accident, of course, Jessica would never hurt Trish on purpose, never. She didn’t even think Killgrave could make her do it. It was probably silly given all the terrible things Killgrave made her do but Jessica liked to imagine that there were certain lines even he could not make her cross.

Turns out he didn’t have to.

It happened after Killgrave had died the first time but before Jessica had fully understood how deeply she had been broken.

After Killgrave got hit by the 57 night bus the first thing Jessica had done was move back in with Trish. It seemed like a logical first step to healing since she had only moved out in the the first place because Killgrave had forced her to. Jessica wasn’t naive enough to think that things could ever go back to the way they were but when Trish said everything was going to be ok it was easy to believe her.

It also had the added bonus of Trish being the only one she trusted to believe her stories about a psychotic man in purple that could control minds without worrying about her wiping out the straight jacket.

The cherry on top of the new living arrangement was Trish’s steadfast support and unending kindness in the wake of Jessica living a real life nightmare, that was nice too. It was more than nice. Trish’s renewed presence in her life awakened feelings in Jessica that she thought had died with Reva.

Jessica isn’t sure exactly when it happened. She has a wall of crap between her and her emotions about 6 feet thick so it makes it hard to gage this kind of thing  but if she had to guess she would say that it had started long before Killgrave. Possibly as far back as when they were still kids, stuffing their faces with brownies in the closet so Dorothy won't catch them. All Jessica knew for sure was somewhere between the secret brownies shared between little girls and this young woman who had saved her life in so many ways; somewhere in the last 14 years Jessica had fallen in love with her best friend.

It had taken 14 years and Jessica being kidnaped and tortured for 6 months but the pair finally realized that they might be more than very good friends.

They had been kissing for a few weeks before it all came crashing down. Rather, Trish had been kissing her. Jessica never kissed Trish herself, too afraid that her embrace would sully her.

There had been no preamble, no warning. Just Trish pressing a soft, chaste kiss on her lips as she left for work one day. Like it was no big deal, like they were an old married couple that have been performing such exchanges for years. It had been so casual, so good and right and natural, like the sun rising in the morning that Jessica didn’t realize what had happened until hours after Trish had left.

Jessica soon became addicted to the little kisses. Trish would kiss her hair as she passed her on the way to the kitchen. Kiss her neck as they snuggled on the couch together. Kissed her lips when they said goodnight. Each time she did Jessica felt the warmth of it curl around spine and flutter in her stomach. It was good, it was careful and precise like Trish was afraid Jessica might break under her lips. It was better than anything Jessica thought was left in the world for her.

She could barely let herself have it, most days. It was all so tangled in her head. Trish had been so steady, so patient, but Jessica had just felt... buried. Pressed like there’s a damn mountain on her chest, all the things she’s done stacked up like medieval torture, turning everything flat. When Jessica got like that Trish marked it down as “A Bad Day.”

More often than not the bad days outnumbered the good. That meant a lot of misplaced rage and tearful apologies. That meant Jessica had to celebrated the the small triumphs, like going outside, or eating, or even just getting out of bed. Every tiny victory Jessica had Trish made sure to celebrate with the sweetest of kisses.

Eventually Jessica’s tiny victories became more frequent and the good days started to outnumber the bad, but the kisses never stopped. Jessica let Trish kiss her, loved it. It was the best part of her day, every day. But Jessica never initiated a kiss.

Jessica never brought it up, never said anything. She wanted to know why. What had changed? What did this mean for them? She never asked, never said a word, too afraid to break the spell. It had been a long time since the hands on her were welcome, she could not bear to lose it now. Not after everything that had happened.

The worst part, the very worst part about being with Killgrave was not the violence. Jessica knew violence, violence had become her life after she got in the car with her family and got out alone.

The worst had been the gentle touches, the smooth caresses and soft smiles. He would look at her like she was beautiful, something precious, something singular, something that belonged to him. He would touch her, feather light, warm, and lingering and always so, so, gentle. Killgrave had used his powers to take something so wrong and violent and twisted it into something and soft and silent.

He had forced her to touch him like that, had made her want to do it. Hold his hand, stroke his hair, kiss his lips, take him inside her. She told herself she would not keep track, she tried so desperately not to count how many times. She did anyway.

Each time he looked at her like she was new and not like something he had already violated. 234.

Jessica did a lot of research on PTSD after she was free. She was never someone that liked to do research in her off time but now that people kept telling her she had it, PTSD had suddenly become a lot more interesting.

She knew a little about people haunting her even after they had died. It had been 14 years and sometimes she still called her mother’s cell phone, listening to it ring endlessly before she realized what she was doing. She could live with that, but she had no idea that this sickness could consume her.

Trish payed for therapy. Which was totally useless. Jessica didn’t need some egg head telling her that she had PTSD. She knew she had PTSD.

Even if she had been up for talking about her feelings it’s not like she could actually talk about what really happened, not without being institutionalized. It was still a nice thing for Trish to do though, she really is a modern day saint.

Besides, Trish was better than any therapist. Back when then lived together again after Killgrave, Jessica would wake up at extreme hours from viciously vivid nightmares. Nightmares of Reva’s lifeless eyes, silent screams, and kisses that tasted like ash. Trish would always be there by the time Jessica had made it to the kitchen seeking booze or a knife or something, she was never sure what. Anything that would make it stop.

Trish would do this thing where she would put a little hard liqueur over ice cream like it was sause and give it to Jessica on nights like this. It was an attempt to get Jessica to eat more and drink less and Jessica knew it but she let Trish get away with it.

Trish would cover her in every blanket in the house and put on some trashy reality show. She would insert herself into Jessica’s blanket fortress and they would sit there and say nothing until they fell back to sleep or Trish had to go to work. At which point Trish would make her breakfast, kiss her, make Jessica promise not to do anything rash while she was gone, kiss her again for good measure, and leave.

On bad days that lead to even worse nights Trish would skip the foreplay and just drag Jessica into her bed and speak to her in hushed tones until Jessica could close her eyes again without seeing dark red and deep purple. Jessica always slept the best on those nights and it had little to do with Trish's memory foam mattress. 

Jessica was pretty sure that Trish was the only therapy she would ever need. She was wrong.

Having PTSD had honestly not been that that big of an adjustment. She already had unwanted memories, anxiety, quick temper, numbing of positive emotion, and withdrawal from others. That probably said something about her that she did not care to analyze right now, or ever. The flashbacks however, those were new.

Jessica had read about flashbacks in her research about PTSD, initially it appeared as if she had dodged that particular bullet. Although it was true that she was now repulsed by Italian food where as before she had just not cared for it, and purple was now her least favorite color.There was also the the outright anger and panic she felt when someone gave her an order. But 6 months since Killgrave had died the first time and she had yet to have a blood soaked blast from the past. Jessica did not think that flashbacks were something she was going to have to add to her list of shit she had to deal with.

She had always hated people giving her orders anyway.

It had really been 6 months. 6 months of rebuilding herself, 6 months of figuring out where Killgrave ended and she began, 6 months of being a freeloader in Trish’s apartment, 6 months of Trish.

As the time went on Trish became more bold. braiding Jessica’s hair while they watched movies, holding Jessica’s hand in Central Park, chasing away the monsters out from under her bed and silencing the the demons that lived in her head. Trish no longer treated Jessica like she might shatter under her lips but she was always unendingly gentle. Always so, so, gentle.

Jessica was sure that is probably what had done it, Trish's gentleness that was simultaneously so uniquely Trish but also so darkly familiar. That’s what had ruined everything.

Jessica had come home to Trish sitting on her 5000 dollar couch, writing in her notebook with the TV on in the background. It had been a particularly long day for both of them. Christmas was approaching fast and Trish had spent the whole day trying to book a celebrity for the holiday Trish Talk special only to come up empty handed.

Jessica had actually gotten off her ass and looked for a job that day which had earned her 10 victory kisses. Unfortunately she had had just as much luck as Trish which really sucked. She was also going on 2 weeks sober which was hard and made everything suck even more.  

Jessica slammed the door as she came in, putting her stuff away like it had personally offended her.

“Rough day?!” Trish called from the 5000 dollar couch. Jessica flopped on the couch with excessive force as her only answer. Jessica felt like she had been waterboarded and she looked like a drowned rat.

“Is it raining or did you just decide to swim home?” Trish  asked because she was an asshole. Jessica just looked at her as if to say _why are you such an asshole?_

“Oh, I’m so sorry, did I hurt your feelings?” Trish said in a mocking tone. Trish was mocking her now. Trish was an asshole, and things had gotten so much closer to normal the Jessica had ever hoped.

“You aren’t supposed to be mean to me, you’re supposed to be the nice one.” Jessica groused as she sunk further into the couch.

“Jessica, compared to you everyone is nice.” Trish stated as she heaved herself off the couch and headed for the kitchen. Jessica just sank further into the couch and muttered about the natural order of things.

When Trish made her way back she was holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Instead of sitting next to Jessica Trish climbed over the back and slipped into the space between Jessica and the back of the couch, effectively straddling Jessica's hips. She managed this without spilling one drop of the hot chocolate onto her 5000 dollar couch. And people claimed Jessica was the superhero.  

Trish handed the hot chocolate to Jessica, It even had little marshmellows in it. It would probably be better with some schnapps in it but that was just Jessica’s alcoholism talking. They sat there for a while, Jessica letting a warmth that had nothing to do with the hot chocolate spread through her body. Trish setting into place behind her and playing with Jessica’s hair, both of them watching the snow fall outside. This was a memory Jessica saved for cold and lonely nights.

After Trish had french braided Jessica’s hair 5 times over she settled her hands on Jessica's still tense shoulders, kneading gently until she felt the other woman relax against her and brought her arms down to wrap around Jessica’s waist.

Jessica, still mostly entranced by the falling snow, was none the less, both accommodating, and appreciative of the warm lips that started to tracked a slow path down her throat, tilting her head to allow Trish better access. Jessica marveled at the feel of Trish’s lips on her now over heated skin. They had done this, Trish had kissed her like this before, but rather than growing accustomed to the heat the pooled deep in her core every time Trish so much as looked at her it only seemed to become more intense each time even if it only ever ended with them smiling sweetly at each other, lips kiss swollen and breathing shallow but still, tragically, fully clothed.  

 Something was different this time though. Trish’s body was taut against hers, her breath short as her breast pushed into Jessica’s back. Trish's hands moved slowly but with intention as they roamed Jessica’s body, teeth replaced lips on Jessica’s throat. They set about worrying at the sliver of revealed muscle at the apex of  Jessica’s t-shirt. A small involuntary moan was pulled from the back of Jessica’s throat. She could feel the Trish grinning against her neck at the sound.

Jessica knew that in any other relationship she would have had her partner on every available surface by now. But they were being careful, They hadn't really talked about it but they had an understanding that they were taking it slow. As much as it was slowly driving Jessica insane it was probably for the best. There hadn't been anyone since Killgrave and just the thought of letting someone that close made her feel claustrophobic in her own skin.   

She doesn’t feel any of that now. Everything that hurt felt far away, and she felt light, airy. Like that good champagne she could never afford, she had bubbles in her veins, tickling and sweet. As if sensing Jessica’s eagerness Trish made a low humming noise in her chest. Her lips moved to the shell of Jessica's ear, her hands becoming bolder as they teased as they hem of Jessica’s shirt. It felt amazing. Trish's hands on Jessica’s body were so unbearable sweet and so gentle it ached.

And maybe that was it, maybe it was the soft and intimate path of Trish’s hands as they trailed across Jessica’s skin eventually coming to rest on Jessica’s breasts. Maybe it was Trish's huffing breaths as she nuzzled the side of Jessica’s face, kissing her ear and humming in appreciation as her hands found their target. Maybe it was the fact that Trish was behind her and Jessica could not see who was touching her.

Jessica couldn’t be sure what it was but Something was wrong. It was like Something had broken deep inside her and suddenly everything changed. All arousal left her body so fast her head spun. Jessica wanted to speak, to scream. Something was wrong but Jessica knew with sickening clarity that her pleas would fall on deaf ears, that he would only make it worse for her if she screamed.

Adrenaline sang through Jessica’s veins at the sudden overwhelming terror flooding her brain.  She was not in Trish’s apartment, the hands on her body did not belong to the woman she loved, She wasn’t safe. Jessica was back, she was with Killgrave, she was a prisoner in her own body, she was helpless.

Jessica’s vision went purple, she could smell his aftershave, hear his voice, taste his lips. She could feel his hands on her body, sense his power, power that she would be helpless against. She had to do something before it was too late, while her will was still her own, before he took control, made her kill, made her beg to be raped over and over again.

Without even thinking Jessica grabbed the arm wrapped around her body, snapping it like a toothpick and threw it aside. Screams flooded Jessica’s ears, she thought they might be hers but she couldn’t be sure, It didn’t matter. All that mattered was ending this. Jessica needed to break this man as he had broken her. She had to be sure that he would never have power over her ever again.

Jessica’s elbow connected with something soft and fleshy as she sprang to her feet at which point the screaming stopped. That was good, it made it easier to concentrate on what she needed to do. Moving faster then she ever remembered moving in her life Jessica spun to face the man that had violated every cell in her body and every thought in her head. She had thrown a punch before she had made it all the way around. Jessica’s fist connected with something hard and she felt it crack under her hands.

Jessica was screaming, she knew it was her this time due to the burning sensation in her throat, it felt like she had been screaming for years. Someone else was screaming to, saying her name over and over again. Jessica could not see who it was through the tears clouding her vision. Jessica landed another punch, and another someone was still screaming her name, begging her to stop.

Jessica was poised, ready to land another punch when she noticed her hands, they had blood on them. In that moment Jessica’s world shifted on it’s axis and Killgrave was gone. In his place was the woman she loved clutching her arm tenderly to her chest, her face almost unrecognizable through the blood and already forming bruises.


	4. Casualties of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA: help me, help you, help us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like say that I don't have PTSD, I am not close to anyone with PTSD. I did research on PTSD and rape recovery but if I got anything wrong I would like to apologies. It is not my intention to misrepresent or belittle anyones experience. If you have any advice feel free to drop me a message.  
> Now, without further ado, and really, really long chapter where we talk about our feeling.

It was not as bad as it had looked, head injuries never were.

It was not as bad as it looked, but it was bad.

Trish had a displaced fracture to both the radius and ulna of her left arm, deep muscle bruising to her abdominal wall, a concussion, 2 black eyes, a fractured cheekbone, multiple lacerations, and a whole lot of bruising and ruptured blood vessels. The doctors were most worried about possible internal bleeding in the abdomen. They had Trish stay overnight for observation.  

 Jessica had to call an ambulance. She doesn’t have a driver's license and Trish was in no condition to drive. Normally not having a license would not have stopped Jessica from taking Trish's car. She didn’t though, Trish had already been through enough today without having to get in a car with Jessica behind the wheel. Which is traumatizing on a good day.

Jessica had sat with Trish the 7 and a half minutes it took for the ambulance to arrive, unable to touch her for fear of making what she had done any worse, but unable to leave Trish alone to bleed on her 5000 dollar couch.

Trish tried to talk, tried to speak to Jessica through her swollen face, it wasn’t until 5 minutes into waiting for the ambulance that Jessica was able to make out what she was saying.

“It’s not your fault.”

The EMTs had asked what had happened. Jessica panicked and told them that she had fallen down a flight of stairs, like Trish was Jessica’s battered wife. The EMT did not look like they bought what Jessica was selling but Trish had gone along with it. Even with her body bruised and broken by Jessica’s hands Trish was still looking out for her.  

That is what ended up being the deciding factor really.

Jessica was dangerous, she understood that now better than she ever had. But there was more to it than just that, she was more dangerous to Trish than anyone else because Trish would forgive her. Trish had probably forgiven her already, she probably didn’t even think that there was anything to forgive, she didn’t think that it was Jessica’s fault.

Whether Jessica could be blamed for what had happened or not was irrelevant. It had happened. In any other situation, with a normal person that couldn’t bend metal with their bare hands this would not be a problem. But this was Jessica, and Trish was lucky to be alive.

Jessica could see were this path would lead them, Trish would forgive her. Trish would be patient and gentle and understanding and wonderful and perfect and Jessica would let her because she is too selfish not to.

Trish would start touching her again and Jessica would not say no because how could something that feels so good be bad? Jessica knows where that would lead, with Jessica standing next to Trish’s broken body in the hospital, or worse, standing over Trish’s grave.

She had to leave, there was no way around it. Trish would hate her for it, but it had to be done.

She cleaned before she left, spent the whole night going over the apartment with a fine tooth comb. Jessica never cleaned, she was so bad at it she only ever ended up making a bigger mess. At least that's is one thing that Trish won’t miss about her.

She made an extra effort now though. She took extra care to clean the hot chocolate and blood that she had spilled during her episode off of Trish’s 5000 dollar couch. She didn’t want to plague Trish with reminders of what had happened beyond that of her broken arm and battered face. It was a lousy thank you for over 14 years of friendship but it would have to do.

Once the place was spotless and Jessica had packed all her things, she didn’t have a lot, she went to make her good byes. Trish was still asleep when Jessica finally made her way back to the hospital. That was probably a good thing, Trish would try to fight her if she knew and Jessica didn’t have any fight left in her.

Her face looked worse than it had just hours before, she would have to take some time off Trish talk to heal. Jessica hopped she healed well, Trish had such a beautiful face.

Jessica didn’t say much, knew Trish couldn’t hear her. Just the standard, “have a wonderful life, I wish you every happiness.” Jessica kissed her once on the forehead where there was no bruising. The first and only kiss she would ever give her, she figured it would be ok, just that once, since she was saying goodbye.

In that one kiss was a promise to never see her again, never hurt her again, never to pollute her life with the poison Jessica had seeping out of her pours. It was everything she could not force herself to say. It was: I’m sorry, I love you, thank you, and goodbye.

And yet here she was sitting on the very same 5000 dollar couch doing exactly what she promised to never do. Fucking oops.

Somewhere during their Pasty marathon they had lost any and all space between them. Trish had put her arm over Jessica’s shoulders, resting her elbow on the back of the couch and running her fingers through Jessica’s hair. When the fuck had that happened? Trish also had her thighs in Jessica’ lap as her feet extended to the end of the couch. How long had those been there?!

This had already gone too far, God dammit, she knew this would happen. She should never have come here. She should leave right now before someone got seriously hurt.

Jessica untangled herself from Trish with a little more force than was strictly necessary, and stood.

“Well I should probably head home.” Jessica announced, strategically yawning to get her point across.

Trish saw through her like Jessica was a damn window. “If I let you walk of of that door right now will I ever see you again?” Trish said without even looking away from the tv. Why did Jessica even bother trying to lie to her?

Trish was talking again before Jessica could even think about replying “You don’t have to go. I know you don’t want to go back to your apartment. You always have a home here, you know that.” This is why Jessica didn’t talk to Trish about these things, because every time she did Trish always found a way to just fucking break her heart.

Jessica wanted to scream, to cry, to kill Killgrave all over again, most of all she didn’t want to leave. Instead she spoke very clearly and very deliberately to ensure none of her inner turmoil leaked through her words. “ I think it would be best for both of us if I were to stay in my own apartment.”

“Good of you to decide that for the both of us.” Trish snapped. Jessica was thrown by the venom in Trish’s tone. Jessica stood in shock as Trish stood and began to aggressively clear their dishes from her coffee table. When Trish finally looked up whatever she saw in Jessica’s face immediately made her sofen. “God, Jess, I’m sorry. I’m- God- I’m just so sorry for everything.” Trish had put the dishes down and spread her hands, palms facing forward in a placating gesture, as if Trish was trying to calm a wild animal; which probably was not terribly far from reality.

“Trish, you have nothing to apologize for.” Jessica said into the confused silence, it was true, Trish had done nothing wrong. Jessica was so confused and disoriented all thoughts of escape left her and she just stood there as Trish did... whatever Trish was trying to do.

. “No, just, just, can you- just let me say this.” Trish pushed the words out with what looked like extreme difficulty. Trish was usually so articulate, Jessica had never seen her struggle for words like this before.

Trish evidently took Jessica’s silence as encouragement to continue because that is exactly what she did. “I’m so sorry for what happened. What I did to you. I should have known better, I did know better. I’m sorry.”

That was Jessica’s cue to sit down. What warped out parallel universe had she slipped into that Trish had any reason to apologize to her?

“Trish, what are you talking about?” Jessica said when it became apparent that Trish was just refusing to make sense. Maybe Trish had done something Jessica had forgotten about? That seemed unlikely but then again this whole situation was pretty unlikely.

Trish gave Jessica a long suffering look. It seemed that Jessica was about to set a new record for how many times she could get that look directed at her in one day. “You're going to make me say it?” Trish looked liked the word hurt coming out of her.

“Say what? what are you talking about?!” If Trish did not just spit it out already Jessica was going to start to pull her own hair out.  

“6 months ago you had an episode, an episode that I triggered.” Trish spoke with the air of a practised speech, like this was something she had been meaning to say for a long time. “Next thing I know you're gone. If you need to leave again I understand. I just want you to know how very, very sorry I am.” Her speech concluded, Trish flopped back down on the couch with her face in her hands as if suddenly exhausted.

Jessica could not believe what she was hearing. Trish blamed herself for what Jessica had done? Trish thought it was her fault that she got beaten to a pulp?! Jessica felt physically ill just thinking about it. God, Jessica had fucked her up more than she even knew. There was no way she could leave now, she had to make this right. Jessica shakes her head, but doesn’t meet Trish’s eyes. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to meet anyone’s eyes ever again.

“Trish, just no, what happened was not your fault. I lost control and _I’m_ sorry.” A wave of fresh horror runs through Jessica as she realised that that was the first time she had apologized to Trish for _nearly killing her_. That should have been her first thought. She should have been apologising to Trish on bended knee and instead all she had been able to think of was of leaving, of not having to bear the shame of looking at her friend's broken face anymore.

Trish was having none of Jessica’s pity party. “You would not have lost control if I hadn't triggered you. I pushed you too hard, too soon.”

It isn’t guilt in Jessica’s stomach now, it’s pure self-loathing. She thought she was rebuilding herself now, learning how to be Jessica Jones again instead of Killgrave’s puppet but now it turns out Jessica is worse than Killgrave ever was.

She has managed to turn the strong and steadfast Trish Walker, Trish Walker, with an iron will and a heart of gold into someone that blames herself for violence against her, someone who apologizes to her abuser, and Jessica had done all that without the use of magic mind control. This is wrong, this isn’t what she’s supposed to be.

“Trish, it could have been anyone, it wasn’t your fault, I’m dangerous. Please don’t blame yourself for this.” Jessica begs, finally forcing herself to look Trish in the eye, trying as best she can to force understanding into Trish with her pleading words and desperate eyes.

“So I blame myself, and you blame yourself. Is anyone going to blame Killgrave?” Trish actually managed a smile at her own joke. Jessica felt like she may never smile again.

“It doesn't matter whose fault it is. It doesn’t matter that it’s Killgrave’s fault that I’m a ticking time bomb.The fact that it was an accident doesn't mean I did not hurt you, that I couldn't have killed you. Does it?” It wasn't a question; it was a resigned and broken statement of fact. Jessica had to turn her eyes away again. Had to look at anything but Trish. God, why did this have to be so fucking hard?!

“Look at me Jess.” Trish’s tone leaves no room for argument, but Jessica just can’t. She feels like she’s in front of a firing squad, except that she would have had the dignity to raised her head to look at a firing squad.

This is what Trish did to her, striped of all pretences, leaving her raw and indesent. Jessica will throw herself into a fight she knows she can’t win, outgunned and outmanned but she can’t meet her best friends eyes.

Trish closes the space between them and is in Jessica’s space in a flash. One hand on her shoulder, the other delicately lifting Jessica’s chin.

“Jessica, please look at me.” Trish forces Jessica to meet her eyes. “I’m fine.” Trish whispers in a tone that is as soft as it is pragmatic.

It was true, six months away from Jessica had done wonders for Trish’s health. Trish’s arm and face had healed flawlessly, but all Jessica could see was Trish’s gory and mangled face begging her to stop.

“I can’t look at you without seeing what I did.” Jessica said in a rare moment of absolute honesty. Wishing desperately that Trish would let her look away.

Jessica received her wish as Trish threw her arms up in frustration. “You were having a flashback,” Trish nearly yelled, frustration bleeding into his words. “It happens. It happens to me too, don’t you remember?” She nodded, of course Jessica remembered.  They were all but gone now but Jessica remembers what use to happen when Trish was reminded of her mother.

The glassy look she would get in her eyes like she was no longer seeing in the present, like she was a little girl cowering from the person that should have been her protector. Trish usually snapped out of it within a few minutes. The flashbacks had caused some violent outbursts but she had never once laid a hand on Jessica. Trish had always been the better person.

“These things happen. it happens to everyone who's been through-” Trish jerked to a stop, the words choking her. Her face was pure anguish, struggling to find the right words. “What we've been through,” she strangles out at last. If it were possible Jessica felt even fucking worse.

This wasn’t just Jessica’s problem anymore. This was a shared experience. Killgrave had infected Trish too. He had made her try to kill herself. He had made her want him, he had gotten his filthy hands all over her. Jessica’s worst nightmares come to life before her very eyes.

Jessica put her head between her knees in an effort to not throw up.

When she looked up again she was met with Trish’s earnest green eyes filled with concern. “I should go” Jessica croaked, her voice betraying her distress. Trish’s eyes went from concerned to enraged in an instant, her face turning hard and cold.

“When are you going to see that this isn’t your decision to make?” Trish snapped, voice full of hurt and righteous indignation. Trish put as much space as she could between them as the couch would allow as she fumed.

Jessica had been expecting this, she knew Trish would not let this go without a fight. Trish had every right to be angry and hurt, but Jessica was still surprised by how much it hurt even though she understood it.

Jessica stood up then in an attempt to make her next words more firm and absolute. Trish was not going to like this.“Trish, You are one of the smartest people I know, but you can’t think straight when it comes to me.” Jessica loved her for it but it was going to get her killed.

Instead of reacting with more anger though Trish just sat, looking like she was contemplating what Jessica had said. Maybe she was finally seeing sense. The more selfish part of Jessica hoped that wasn’t that case.

This was impossible. Jessica’s emotions and sensibilities were at civil war. She needed Trish to stay away from her, stay safe, but at the same time she felt she might die if she did.

When Trish did finally speak again it was so small and so broken Jessica barely hear her “Why are you doing this?” Trish asked, face red and eyes wet.

Great, Just fucking perfect! She had made Trish fucking cry. What the fuck was wrong with her?! Jessica felt so stupid, broken, and powerless all at once. For all that Jessica may have super strength she was powerless now.

Jessica hated this conversation so much that it was all she could do to stay still. Everything in her was screaming to just get out, to go to her apartment and put her fist through a wall, scream at the moon, something, anything that wasn't standing here talking about something this monumentally stupid. Anything to ignore the way everything was hinging on the words that she couldn't get right.

But she knew better than that. She had to finish this. She owed Trish that much at the very least. “I don’t want to do this. I'm sorry, but it's not safe.” _There is a power inside me, and it just takes over._ Her own words to detective Clemens echo inside her head, mocking her. It was meant to be an act, get her locked up in supermax but it turned out being a self portrait.

Jessica didn’t realize she had raised her voice until she her heard the stark contrast of the renewed silence and saw the raw look of shock on Trish’s face. It was too loud, too sharp and too brutal. Both women stood, mirroring each other's movement in an instinctive effort to give the other space.

There was silence then, a police siren could be heard somewhere in the distance.

"You're the only one around here who's afraid of you, Jess.” Trish's lips twitched in what would have been a smile in another life. 

Jessica scrubbed her hands over her face, this not how this was supposed to go. “Don’t you see what you’re doing?” Trish continued, pressing her advantage “you are letting him control you. He’s dead, you don’t need to let him control your life anymore.”   

Jessica’s hackles rose at Trish’s words. Anger clouded her mind and twisted her stomach. “He has nothing to do with this. This is my decision and it is final!” This was good, Jessica understood anger. It would be easier on both of them if Jessica were angry.

It would be easier if Trish were angry too. It would hurt less if Trish blew up and screamed at her, but of course she couldn’t do things the easy way.

“Your choice,” Trish shrugged, speaking like she was letting Jessica pick a movie not letting her oldest friend walk out of her life forever. Trish stoved her hands in pockets, spun on her heel, and flopped on the couch “I guess I will see you around, or whatever.” She said as she grabbed the remote and turned the TV back on.

Jessica could live with Trish’s anger, she could live with her disappointment, her anguish, her tears and her pain. It hurt like a son of a bitch but she had done it before and she could do it again. What she could not live with, what she never thought to prepare herself for, was Trish’s indifference. Jessica could not walk out that door with Trish sitting on her couch, watching TV, like the past 15 years meant nothing. She could not do it.

“Do you think this is easy for me?” It was meant to come out defiant and demanding but her throat was tight, all the air seemed to get caught somewhere on the way to her lungs.

“I don't much care,” Trish retorted, and it was too brittle, too broken for someone who was casually watching tv. “You get to choose. If your choice hurts, well, then, maybe it's a sign that you've made a lousy fucking choice, Jessica.” Trish had taken on the bratty rich girl tone she sometime got when she didn't get what she wanted. Jessica recognized it from their high school days.

Apparently Jessica had to be an adult about this. She would just say her piece, Trish would understand and Jessica would leave, for real this time.  Walking across Trish's living room and sitting down next to her on Trish’s 5000 dollar couch felt like it took years off Jessica’s life but she did it. She owed it to Trish to look at her face to face when she… What? Broke up with her? That was what she was doing wasn’t she? Yeah, it was. This fucking sucked.

Trish was still deliberately watching TV even though it was now showing a commercial for Cialis. Jessica grabbed the remote and turned off the power. Trish continued to stare at the dark screen.

After all this time it was still hard for Jessica to initiate contact but since this was goodbye again she figured that her guilty conscience would let it slide.

Jessica reached out to touch Trish’s knee, that got her attention. When Trish looked at Jessica her eyes were gleaming, her face red and swollen but she looked far from pitiful, Trish wore defyance like a second skin. Jessica loved her so much in that moment that she was able to gather the strength to say what she had to.  

“I’m not a hero.” Jessica began. It was a fact and Jessica had come to terms with a long time ago. Trish looked like she wanted to object but Jessica blew past her protests. “Just please, let me say this?” Trish opened her mouth but then shut it with an audible click and noded at her to continue.

“I’m not a hero, but you are. I don’t want what has happened between us to discourage you.” This was it, this was the goodbye that Jessica should have given Trish over half a year ago. Well, it was better late than never.

“I can’t be saved. But that does not mean that you should stop trying. That does not mean that their are not other people out there that need your help. Don’t give up on trying to save the world. If anyone could do it, you can.” Jessica remembered that day at the bar, Trish telling of her plans to save the world like they were little girls again talking about what they wanted to be when they grew up. How long had it been? It felt like decades, another life time, another world where her biggest concern was finding a job that didn’t suck.

Now innocent lives hung in the balance, now she was broken and dangerous, now she was saying goodbye to the best thing in her life because she couldn't be trusted not to destroy her. And now she was crying because that was the only way this shit show could have possibly gotten worse. “This is not the result of some failing in you. I’m not doing this because you're not good enough. I’m doing this because I could not live with myself if I hurt you.” _Again,_ Jessica added mentally, hating everything.

Trish stared at her for a few minutes, silent and still. Eventually she glanced up. “You're asking me to leave you alone to suffer,” she said to the ceiling. Jessica's mouth opened, objection fully formed on her tongue.

She didn't get a single word out before Trish cut her off. “No. I listened, now you listen.” Trish rose restlessly, pacing in front of Jessica like she couldn’t keep still.

“I know what you're thinking. I know _how_ you think.” Trish continued to pace. “But if we were in the city, if we were out there-” she flipped a hand toward the windows. “Fighting? And there was someone that was attacking you? The fact that I could end up hurt doesn't matter. I won't let you fight alone. I won't let someone hurt you because there's a chance I might be hurt.”

“That's not what this is,” Jessica stated. That was totally different. Trish fought with Jessica to save people. Trish staying with Jessica was not going to save anyone.

“Yes, yes it is. That is exactly what this is.” Trish stopped pacing in favor of towering over Jessica. “This is about you fighting Killgrave everyday. This is the fight in which you need me the most.” Trish crouched so that her and Jessica were on the same level. “I’m not saying I can cure you. I’m not a miracle worker. But -” Trish’s words didn’t so much crack, but completely shatter. “I know what it's like to wake up and still be in a nightmare and have no way out. I won't do that to you. Don't ask me to do that.”

Trish laid her hands on Jessica’s knees. Jessica jumped, couldn't help it. Jessica never talked about her feelings like this and it made her feel like she were stepping through a minefield.

“I have to” Jessica said, trying to sound firm but it came out barely above a whisper.

Trish signed, sounding just as convinced by Jessica's words as Jessica herself. “Our situation isn’t actually as unique as you seem to think. Thousands of men and women have PTSD.” Trish said, making herself sound like an expert. “They all run the risk of accidentally hurting the person they love most. And every person who's ever loved someone with PTSD has had acknowledge that.”

Jessica sighed, why couldn't she make her understand? “None of those people are with someone like me.” That was the crux of this whole shitty situation. If it weren’t for Jessica’s strength, her power, Trish could have walked away with a black eye and a funny story. If it weren’t for Jessica’s strength Killgrave may never taken an interest in her and a lot of good people may still be alive.

“I'm-” Jessica faltered. what was she exactly? A monster? No, no matter how true that may be she could not bring herself to say it. “Dangerous.” She said for about the fifth time in this conversation. Jessica was determined to keep saying it as many times as she had to until Trish understood. Even if the word left a burning trail up her throat every time it came out of her mouth.

 Jessica couldn’t bare to watch Trish react to her words. She covered her face with her hands wishing she could just disappear.

Trish reached out to her, covering her hands with her own and pulling them away from Jessica’s face as she spoke. “Highly trained solders come home to their partners everyday” Trish soothed, now holding Jessica’s hands to her own face. “And I'm betting if you told them they couldn't, or shouldn't, they may have a couple of choice words for you.”

Trish’s face was warm and soft under her hands. It made so much sense when Trish said it like that. The combination of the feel of Trish’s skin and her calculated words left Jessica’s resolve feeling fragile.

“Do you trust me?” Trish asked before Jessica could formulate her rebuttal.

“Of course I trust you. I trust you with my life.” Jessica was now holding Trish’s face of her own volition. Hoping desperately that her fear for Trish’s safety had not made her doubt Jessica’s feeling for her.  

“That's not what I meant.” A smile tugged at the corner of Trish’s lips. Jessica must have looked as confused as she felt because Trish laughed.  Jessica could feel it under her hands

"I get that you are scared of hurting me.” Trish spread her palms over Jessica’s jean clad thighs. “I understand. But I need you to trust me; trust that I know what I want and that I know what I’m doing. I’m a smart woman, my pursuit of you does not stem from ignorance, I need to to trust that.”

There was a reason Jessica had left when Trish was unconscious. How had she ever thought she could win against this woman? How had she thought she could fight Trish Walker, the woman with the will of iron, in a battle Jessica wanted to lose?

She could trust Trish, she could do that. Jessica may not trust herself but she could trust Trish and Trish trusted her, that had to mean something didn’t it?

“Yes.” Jessica said in a hushed tone, afraid she might break the moment if she spoke too harshly. “Yes, I trust you.”

Trish was really smiling now, a smile Jessica had not seen in a long time. Her _I just got Captain America to agree to be on my talk show, smile._

It felt like a blessing to see that smile for herself, see it aimed at her. Jessica didn’t even realize she was crying until Trish used her thumbs to push Jessica’s tears away.

It’s like water pouring out of her, a wound finally cleaned after festering for years. Her eyes were stinging with tears because even though this is good, all she ever wanted, it hurts to finally get it and her voice is low and breaking. “ Can I?....would it be alright if I...I...Would you kiss me?” It’s stupid and embarrassing but even in the wake of her epiphany Jessica can not bring herself to touch Trish like that.

Trish doesn’t laugh though, doesn’t scold her, doesn't even flinch. She just smiles and nods and brings herself up from her crouch to kiss her best friend who is crying like an idiot.

Jessica’s lips were chapped and her tears were getting in there mouths. God, Jessica was pretty sure she might even be getting snot on Trish’s face but it was ok because it was Trish. Trish who was so constant and understanding and it was perfect.

Too soon Trish pulled away, Jessica tried to chase her lips but Trish held her back with a firm hand. “Jessica, are you sure you are up for this?” Jessica nodded, she was not sure what “this” was. All she knew was that she needed to closer to Trish, needed to be as near her as humanly possibly. But Trish was not so easily deterred.

“Jessica” she whispered like her name was a prayer “Jessica, I love you, I want to be with you, but I need you to be ok. So you have to tell me, is this ok?” Trish deliberately stoked her fingers across Jessica’s arm.  

Trish had never told Jessica that she loved her. Not in so many words. Words were for the world outside Trish and Jess, words were not needed when it was just the two them. In the old days they would go for days on end without saying one word but they always understood each other. Trish told Jessica that she loved her with soft looks and lingering touches. They could read each other better then if the words had been carved into their skin. They knew how each other felt, words would only cheapen what they had. Yet another thing that Killgrave had stolen from her.  

He had rewritten her very language, butchered it and burned it down. She can’t go there, can’t touch, not anymore. Hands are no longer warm and delicate, hands bring pain. Mouths are for screaming and skin is only touched to be broken. It took two solid months before Jessica stopped filching away from Trish's hands. Words are the only thing left that Jessica understands. Trish must know that, that's why she says it now. Jessica appreciates that almost as much as it yearns for what she has lost.

But Jessica is nothing else if not stubborn. Instead of answering Trish with her words Jessica very deliberately raises her hand stroked her knuckles over Trish’s cheek. It’s sloppy and awkward, and her hand is shaking but Trish leans into the touch as if she is starved for it. It must have been the right thing to do because Trish is kissing her again.

Jessica hadn't known how much this had been weighing on her. How much the space between her and Trish had been killing her. Now that it was gone it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. Trish turned her head to deepen the kiss and Jessica knew that she would never be able to to leave again. She would never be able to force herself out that door after having loved and lost and then given the chance to love again. The only exception would be of course if Trish threw her out. Which is just what Jessica thinks Trish might do when she pulls away for a second time.

Trish’s face was flushed and her lips were kiss swollen and she has never looked more beautiful. Jessica very much wants to be kissing her again but Trish has on her stern face and a firm hand on Jessica’s shoulder keeping her at arm's length and it’s really, really not fair.

“This is serious Jessica, I asked you to trust me and I need you to do it now.” Only Trish could manage to sound stern while looking that disheveled.

“Jess, I don’t know what triggered you before but I think it is best for both of us if it doesn’t happen again.” It’s a joke, Jessica knows it a joke but it still sends a spike of regret through her chest.

Trish seems to sense this, when she next speaks her voice is soft and comforting. “I need you to help me help you. Before we go any further I need you to know that, at anytime, you can tell me to stop, and I will.” Trish’s hand has traveled down Jessica’s arm to grasp her hand. “It’s that simple.” Trish continues in a soft but earnest voice. “You just say the word and I will stop, no strings attached. You won’t be in trouble. I won’t be mad, or sad or even disappointed.” Trish brings Jessica’s hand up to her face and kisses her knuckles.

Jessica released a breath she had not realized she was holding. She knew this, of course she did. Trish would never hurt her. She would never force Jessica to do anything she did not want to do. She knew that and yet it was so amazingly good to hear Jessica felt like she might collapse.

 Jessica had had sex since that bloody December night. She had liquid copping mechanisms now. There had been Luke and a handful of others, mainly women. It had taken a while before Jessica could even look at a man like that without feeling a bolt of panic and guilt.

She couldn’t really explain it logically. Rationally she knew there was a difference. She knew that comparing sex to what Killgrave had done to her would be like hitting someone on the head with a shovel and calling it gardening. She knew that, she was just waiting for her broken brain to believe it. It had been over a year now, she still wasn’t able to touch herself.

That was all sex had become for her now, just masterbation. Jessica had never been one to save herself for anything. If she found someone she wanted to have sex with then that's what she would do, it was as simple as that. But she had always sought some sort of connection with her partners.

For Jessica sex had always been something that was meant to be shared, not taken. It didn’t mean that she wanted to grow old with all her bedmates but she didn’t go around having sex with people she didn’t like. Everyone she brought into her bed was welcome to at least spend the night and get breakfast in the morning.

Not anymore. Killgrave had took and took and took until she had nothing. She had gotten so use to just lying there, concentrating on her breathing and saying the alphabet backwards that she didn’t know how to open herself to that kind of connection anymore.

Not that sex now didn’t have it’s appeal. Jessica had been using other people’s bodies to masturbate. But it was nice, it made it so she could forget, at least for a while. And it is appealing to forget. To just be a body with a body's needs for a little while, instead of a hurt and confused person. She was never sober.

Jessica didn’t think she could do that with Trish. Trish had Jessica already feeling too open, too vulnerable. It would be terrifying if she didn’t trust Trish so goddam much. She trusted Trish with her life and her heart. She trusted Trish to catch her if she fell.

Jessica gazed into the eyes of her best friend, took a deep breath, and jumped.

Trish followed her down the proverbial rabbit hole.

It had been a little touch and go at first. Jessica was overwhelmed by the smallest of touches. Trish’s nearness made her feel trapped and claustrophobic.

When it got to be too much, when Jessica’s palms started to sweat and her vision started to go purple. Jessica would say stop, Trish would freeze, take a step back and tell Jessica who she was, where they were, who she was with and that Killgrave was dead. She told her over and over until Jessica’s breathing slowed.

It was slow going but Trish never once looked annoyed or impatent. Once Jessica had calmed down Trish would give her a glass of water, sit with her and ask if she wanted to continue.

They sent hours like this. Just kissing and touching like they had all the time in the world. They didn’t get very far or anything. It would have been too much too fast but Jessica had high hopes for the future, for _their_ future. Just the two of them, two girls that never had anything but still managed to lose everything. They found eachother again in the light of the sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, writing dialogue is hard.  
> Now all thats left is the happily ever after.


	5. When the War is Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA: If this were any cheesier it would be fondue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You did it! You made it through the angst, now here it is, the happy ending, enjoy!

It was well into the afternoon when Jessica regained consciousness. The bed was exceptionally warm and cozy and someone was tracing warm patterns into her back so Jessica figured that Trish was there too.

She certainly hopped it was Trish.

Staying in bed until 4pm was one of the undeniable pleasures of both of them being self employed. Jessica would have to take full advantage of that in the future, starting now.

Trish was obviously awake but doing some work on her phone. Jessica crawled up Trish’s body from where she had been pillowed on the her stomach. She took her time, touching every  bit of exposed skin she found along the way. Trish wasn't naked but she wasn’t wearing a whole lot either which Jessica appreciated.

Trish very admirably did not respond to her and kept her attention on her phone.

“What are you doing?” Jessica breathed into Trish’s ear. Trish shivered a little but otherwise continued to focus on her phone.

“I’m putting your apartment up for sale.” Trish said like it was a perfectly acceptable thing for her to be doing. Jessica was definitely awake now.

“You’re what?!” It may be late afternoon but it was still too early to be dealing with this.

“I’m putting your apartment up for sale.” Trish repeated, unperturbed by Jessica’s shock. When Trish did finally look up from her phone she looked like the cat that got the canary, and the cream, and anything else she had ever wanted.

“If you sell my apartment where will I live?” Jessica asked. Trish gave her a look that said she was being very slow. Which was very possible considering that she just woke up and a large part of her brain was devoted to the fact that she was in bed with a mostly naked Trish Walker.

“You will live here, with me, in my apartment.” Trish had put her phone down and was now was facing Jessica fully, daring her to argue.

“Were you going to inform _me_ about your plans for my future?” Jessica rebuked at Trish's obvious challenge, she never could resist a challenge.

“Did I make an important life decision without consulting you? That must be very upsetting” Trish’s tone positively dripped sarcasm and she shifted her body until she was curled around Jessica like a snake.

It was a sharply pointed jab but Jessica smiled despite herself. There was still a lot of dead space between to them, wounds left to fester and putrefy for months, but Trish was joking, however pointed, which meant they were on the mend.

“I don’t imagine that I need to order a moving truck to transport all of the one pair of jeans and the two shirts and 12 empty beer cans that make up the entirety of your possessions, do I?” Trish dead panned.

Well, Jessica _had_ planned on giving in easily, nursing their still healing relationship but now it was war.  

“What about my work?” Jessica challenged, trying to ignore Trish’s mostly naked body wrapped around her. “You can’t expect me to just drop everything and fall at your feet.”

Trish’s grin turned positively wolfish. “That is exactly what I expect.” Trish purred, thumbing the hem of Jessica’s night shirt. “I even have some plans for you while you are there.” Trish’s hand was fully in her shirt now and wow this had escalated quickly.

Not that Jessica was complaining but it was fast becoming a little too much. Trish seemed to sense her concerns before Jessica could voice them. She removed every point of contact she had with  Jessica without going very far. Jessica could still feel the warmth radiating off her skin, still feel her breath on her neck. It was intimate without being intrusive.

“Besides,” Trish continued like nothing had happened and Jessica fell that much more in love with her for it. “You place is such a wreck that the most fiscally responsible thing to do would be sell it as a fixer upper and cut your losses.”

That was probably true. Jessica had tried to deluded herself into thinking that she could convince her landlord that the huge hole in her wall was a hip, new decor choice but she knew it was a lost cause. She knew in the same way that she knew that if she she actually wanted contiue to live in that shit hole on the bad side of what was already a bad neighborhood that Trish would let her go. Even help her patch the hole.

Trish was not selling her apartment as a way of trying to run Jessica’s life for her, she was doing because it was what they both wanted but what Jessica could never bring herself to ask for.

“Maybe I’ll take a break.” Jessica sighed, shifting around until she had pulled Trish into an embrace, front to front this time so that she could see who was touching her. “Hell’s Kitchen’s got that satanist reject with the two sticks defending it’s honor now, the people don’t need me.”

Trish snorted, she pretended not to be a die hard Daredevil fan but Jessica knew her secrets.

“Or, we could get you an actual office in the city, with an indestructible door.” Trish countered, using a soft hand to brush Jessica’s hair back, having gathered from their embrace that it was ok to touch the her again.

Jessica took Trish’s other hand and pressed it to her lips. “As nice as that sounds it would involve a commute, which would mean leaving this bed.” Jessica breathed across Trish’s knuckles.

Trish’s eyes sparkled with mischief and delight in the afternoon sun. “Jessica Jones you are a genius.” Trish said through a peel of laughter.

They would have to get up soon. There was a great, wide, scary world to face and Jessica couldn’t hide in Trish’s blankets forever. She knew that, she wasn’t going to try; but she could probably get away with it for a few more minutes.

Jessica has not felt this good in a long time. It’s not perfect, Trish helps but she is not a wizard, she can’t cast a magic spell to make it all better, but it is good. Jessica held the woman she loved secure in the knowledge that she was loved in return. It wasn’t perfect, but It was better than anything she had had since Killgrave.

Killgrave had never loved her, despite what he may have said. He had desired her power. He had taken her off the street, made her his slave, raped her mind and her body over and over again in an attempt to hold his power over hers, but he had never loved her. He had never known true power.

If he had he would have known there was no power in Jessica’s strength. A desperate, raging thing, lashing out at everything around it. Uncontrolled, violent. It did not make Jessica powerful. It never had. It made her weak. A woman out of control, unable to keep from destroying those she cared for, driving pain and chaos into their lives. Too weak to keep herself from hurting them. Her gifts did not make Jessica strong. That ... wasn't what power felt like.

This, though. This. Holding Trish in her arms, holding this powerful, beautiful, fragile thing in her grasp. Holding tight to a woman who knew her, who had seen her, who knew her monster. Who trusted her regardless. Holding a life inside her arms that knew, exactly, what Jessica could do to destroy it, feeling it bleed, feeling it break, holding it true regardless. That was something Killgrave had never understood. That was power. That was ... more strength than Jessica had ever known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's over!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ...or is it?

**Author's Note:**

> "Only the dead have seen the end of war." -Plato


End file.
